Poetry

In doubt of dust

Your parting world balanced
on a speck of dust. Before
a dancing martyr cried,
just killed a man.
In the depth of your blink
it creeps out of view. So
now you look at that demon
with the dust in your eyes. Knowing
that there is some kind of
forward motion there. Right ahead.
But instead a baby choked, and
your gaze shifted to mama.

Georgia Haggar